Keeping Close
by Lautari
Summary: When you lose the one you love, you want to know the truth.


_I have been waiting for Jason Bourne for years. I'm so upset over Nicky, but they gave her such an exit. The relationship between the two characters has always been perfect. The writing is impeccable and the interaction between them has always been so bittersweet. This is my send off and closure for them._

 **OOOOOOOOOO**

"When the one you love gets taken from you, you want to know the truth." – Jason Bourne, "The Bourne Supremacy"

 **OOO**

Watching Nicky die did something to him that Marie's death hadn't.

Marie's death had been quick and brutal, a shock to his senses. Nicky's was a slow, helpless torture he watched in slow motion. Another human sacrifice on the altar of Jason Bourne. She offered herself freely though, and that was what would haunt him.

She'd offered herself to him as a young recruit, fresh out of Brown. Paris was the first real assignment for both of them, though he was a few years into his entrenchment with Treadstone. They were both homesick, she for the little bakery in the Brooklyn neighborhood she grew up in, and he for football with his high school buddies in Missouri. He'd teased the petite handler relentlessly, lingering much longer than the allotted time for debriefing, before winning the art enthusiast over with a rainy afternoon at the Louvre and Bud Lights at his apartment after.

She offered herself in Tangier when she said her car was parked out front. He should've left her. Even then, when his memories were lost to him, she was familiar. She'd learned to fear him since he held a gun to her head in Paris, the night Conklin was killed. She met Bourne, the man Jason warned her about, whom she'd only caught glimpses of during their relationship. She became strong without him though. She knew what she was doing in a way that Marie never had. He trusted her, and frankly, he was lonely and tired of not trusting people. He fought Desh desperately for her, because he couldn't lose anyone else. He still put her on that bus though, because he thought it was the only way to keep her safe.

Looking back, he should've kept her close. They'd crossed paths over the years, the only two people in their lonely world. They shared a locker in a train station in Brazil, leaving money, notes and gifts for the other. He found a small package there one September with a note that said "Open at Christmas." He carried it for months and on Christmas morning had a feast of lil' smokies and a beer from a local brewery back home. For her birthday he left her a can of coke, a Hershey bar, and a few thousand dollars. It was two months before she got to it, but when they saw each other again, she asked where he got the money. He shrugged. _"I got lucky in a few fights."_ In truth, he had a fight and a diamond necklace he'd bought for her years before right before he went missing. He kept it in a locker in Paris safe from watchful eyes. He'd considered giving it to her, to say everything he couldn't anymore, to say yes, _I remember us and it was important,_ but it would've been cruel. That waslife was gone, that girl was gone, he was gone. The money was his gift now, a sign that he wanted to make sure she was taken care of.

They shared a bed at times, falling together onto the sheets without words. There were never many words between them anymore, only shared wistful gazes and quick glances when the other was not looking. Any conversation more than a few sentences was usually a heated argument. Now that she was gone, he had so much he wanted to tell her.

It had been a year and a half since he'd last seen her before Greece. He should've kept her close.

" _What's wrong?"_ It was more panicked than he intended.

" _I'm going to get you to cover."_ Another promise to her he couldn't keep.

" _She's dead."_ Because of him. Because she loved him. Because she understood him. Because she knew he needed peace.

" _You exploited her."_ He wanted to rip Dassault's throat out. Because she believed in more than survival. He knew her heart was going to get her killed and he didn't keep her close.

He ran the Asset down in Vegas out of grief, but killed him out of vengeance. Watching the life leave the assassin's eyes didn't affect him, but watching the single tear trickle from her eye as the life left hers had broken him. He left the Asset on the concrete as he'd been forced to leave her in Greece. The city was in chaos, helicopters overhead, and all he could do was cast her one last wistful gaze and leave her behind again.

Unable to pull her close.


End file.
